


Reparations

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Dirty Talk, Episode Related, Established Relationship, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:58:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team goes back to check up on the children's planet, and Rodney manages to get himself into an interesting situation. John takes advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John sighed, glad to finally be free of the cluster of the welcoming council, full of their curiosity and distrust and clingyness. Twilight had passed into full dark while he had been occupied in the Elder hut, and now fires were burning throughout the camp, small patches of intense brightness that only made the shadows deeper. The whole village smelled like smoke and pine sap, leather and cooking meat, and a subtle smell he always associated with little kids. He thought that last might have all been in his mind, though.

He turned in a slow circle, trying to get his bearings as his eyes adjusted to the spotty light. Rodney had to be around somewhere. John couldn't imagine him not being in easy reach of food and warmth, but then again, Rodney had an unfortunate tendency to surprise him. He wasn't really worried–the shield was working perfectly, the kids for the most part were happy to have them here, and Ronon and Teyla were around to make sure no other Pegasus insanity took a chunk out of their hides.

Ten minutes later, there still wasn't any sign of Rodney, and John was starting to get worried. Teyla had seen him go off with a group of the younger ones about an hour after dinner, and noone else had seen him since. John frowned, debating his next move, when he noticed the little blond-haired girl that liked Rodney so much playing under one of the smaller huts.

She looked up as he walked towards her, and her little eyes got very, very big in her dirt-smudged face. She scrambled up and away from him, but her quick little feet were no match for John's reach.

"Whoa, whoa. Cleo, right? How about you tell me where Rodney is?"

Her eyes were still big, almost frightened-looking, but now John was pretty sure she was trying to play him.

"I don't know," she said, tugging her wrist against his gentle grip. His thumb and forefinger overlapped on her small bones.

"Uh-huh," he said, squatting to face her without letting go. "Well, where did you see him last?"

She looked over to where she had been sitting, then back at his face with an 'oh shit, dad just caught me' expression. She tugged again and John let her go. He was pretty sure he had figured it out.

He managed to make the awkward climb up the rope ladder by himself. Sure enough, Rodney was alone inside the small hut Cleo had been watching.

John couldn't stop the grin; relief and disbelief combined inside him into a kind of giddiness. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, pulling himself together, and then stepped into Rodney's line of sight. Standing with his feet apart and hands clasped behind his back, he peered down at Rodney with a raised eyebrow.

"Looks like you've been compromised, McKay."

Rodney glared up at him. "Yes, yes. Very funny. Now get me out of here."

"Oh, I don't know, McKay. Seems to me there's probably a good reason for you to be this way, and I wouldn't want to cause a political incident."

The glare turned into a set-jaw glower. John wondered if teeth-grinding would happen if he pushed. He rocked on his heels a little, studying Rodney's predicament. He was bound to the squat bed-like thing, legs together and arms down at his sides, his wrists and ankles wrapped and tied with the soft rope the kids used. Soft, but strong. John could tell that the knots themselves were only adequate, but they had tightened when Rodney had struggled against them.

"Your rugrats do this?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. John smiled, ducking his head and squatting down to hide it. "And you let them?"

"Well what was I supposed to do, Colonel? Shoot them? They ambushed me, and I didn't think it would look good if I added child-abuser to my curriculum vitae."

Softy.

"Do you still have feeling?" John asked.

"Are you kidding? My arms are about to drop off here," Rodney snapped. "Gangrene is about to set in. I can feel it creeping up my fingers at this very moment."

This time, John rolled his eyes, but he reached out and checked Rodney's hands to be sure. They were still pink and warm. He ran a finger under the wrist bindings, confirming the fact that the rope wasn't cutting off Rodney's circulation. Then he stood up and headed for the entrance hole.

"What are you doing? Colonel! Don't you leave me here," Rodney shouted.

John ignored Rodney as he dropped the privacy cloth over the entrance. That should keep any curious eyes out; from what he understood, their culture held a pretty strong privacy taboo.

"John, don't leave me here," Rodney begged, and John started to feel a little guilty.

He turned back towards Rodney. "Relax, I'm not going anywhere," he said, then bent to unlace his shoes. He carefully stowed his guns where they would be in easy reach, then circled the hut once, making sure there weren't any nasty surprises anywhere.

"Um, let me go, please?"

John grinned. "Oh, I don't think so. I'm guessing there are reparations to be made."

Rodney blinked. "Reparations."

John nodded. "Reparations."

"What exactly are we talking about here?" Rodney asked, lifting his head as he followed John's movements. "I'm not exactly the giving sort, you might remember."

John stripped off his vest and knelt beside Rodney. "I'm sure you'll manage just fine." He leaned forward and kissed Rodney. It was a little awkward, since Rodney was pretty close to the ground, his hands pressed up against the wall of the hut. But they managed to make it pretty hot anyway, and they were both panting a little when John pulled back.

"You okay with this?" he whispered.

Rodney swallowed and started to nod. "Wait. What about the others–"

John shook his head. "It'll be fine. Ronon and Teyla are guarding the perimeter, and I hung out the do not disturb sign."

Rodney dropped his head back down with a thump. "Very subtle," he complained–but he didn't stop John as he ran his hands down Rodney's chest, stopping to pinch a prominent nipple.

Rodney whimpered, but John let go and shuffled downwards. This was going to play hell on his knees, but he couldn't resist Rodney like this. He untied Rodney's shoes and slipped them off, but left his socks. John wouldn't be able to get Rodney's pants all the way off, anyway, not without untying his ankles. And he wasn't about to do that.

Rodney watched him, neck muscles straining, as John unbuckled Rodney's belt and worked his pants and boxers down past his hips and as far down his legs as John could get them. Rodney wasn't fully hard yet, and John debated whether to take Rodney's cock in his mouth now, or to tease a little longer. Temptation won out. He braced himself with his arms on either side of Rodney, and went straight for his cock. Rodney jumped, but couldn't move much. John's own cock jerked at that thought, that and the feel of Rodney growing in his mouth, the strong smell and taste of him.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, Rodney's cock now hard and wet. Rodney groaned and thrust his hips at John's face.

"Now, now," John chided. "None of that." He pushed up the bottom of Rodney's shirt and licked the lower edge of Rodney's belly, watching the muscles twitch away from his touch.

"John," Rodney said, ordering more than begging. That was going to change.

John settled back into a crouch so he could unzip Rodney's shirt. Luck was with them today; Rodney'd picked the gray one that zipped all the way down. John took his time tugging the pull downwards, holding Rodney's eyes as he exposed Rodney's hairy chest and stomach. He pushed asides the halves of the shirt, stroking lightly over the soft skin.

"John," Rodney said softly.

John leaned forward and kissed Rodney again. It started more tender than passionate, softly brushing their lips together. Then Rodney strained up against him, sucking John's lower lip between his own and then biting down. John grunted. He wrapped a hand around the back of Rodney's neck, his fingers buried in Rodney's hair, and took control. He felt like he was trying to swallow Rodney, and Rodney was trying to swallow him. John broke away, panting, and pressed his cheek against Rodney's.

"God, John," Rodney panted.

John lifted his head, rubbing his thumb through Rodney's hair. "Hey. You okay?"

Rodney nodded. "Just...don't draw it out too much."

John smiled. "Just a little." He stood up, taking in the best thing he'd found on this visit. Rodney looked like something out of a romance novel–only a lot more real. Bound wrists and ankles with his clothing pushed up against the rope, surrounding naked skin, hard cock like a centerpiece drawing John's eye. And Rodney's eyes, fixed on John, waiting, quiet and trusting.

"Watch me," John said quietly. He removed his jacket with out fanfare, dropping it beside the bed-thing. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it, then unbuckled his belt. A push and a wiggle had his pants dropping to the floor. Then he turned around, slowly pulled his boxers down, and bent over to pull them over his feet.

"Very nice," Rodney said, his voice husky.

John turned back around, letting Rodney see him. He ran his hands down his chest, flicking his nail over a nipple, loving the way Rodney licked his lips as he did it. John moved down, drawing his fingers across his stomach, then detouring over his hip bones to trail across the tops of his thighs. The teasing was starting to get to him as much as it was to Rodney. He spread his legs and reached down to play with his balls.

"Oh yeah," he groaned, and Rodney made a really nice noise of agreement. John rubbed over the skin, his own touch a deep, slow burn that spread through his groin and gut, making him want to spread his legs wider, show off for Rodney. He moved his hand to the base of his cock, then slowly, too slowly, stroked upwards, teasing both of them.

"Come on, John," Rodney begged. "Do something."

John stopped.

"Oh, be contrary, then. That's so mature–-"

John dropped back down next to the bed, covering Rodney's mouth with his hand. Warm lips pressed against his palm, then Rodney licked it, probing with his tongue. John squirmed but kept his hand in place.

"I'm getting there. You want to let me work, or you want to keep interrupting me?" He took his hand away slowly, then started to bend forward for another kiss.

"I have options?" Rodney asked, just as John was moving in.

John snorted and pulled back. "You're impossible, you know that?" He sat back, reaching for his jacket.

"Wait, wait, I didn't mean it. I'll be quiet, just do something!"

John quirked an eyebrow, and Rodney clamped his mouth shut. As a reward he held up the lube where Rodney could see. Rodney dropped his head back down, his eyes wide, face open as he watched John. John opened the container, then straddled Rodney, working his knees between Rodney's arms and his sides.

"Think you can handle this?" John asked as he reached behind himself, stroking lube over Rodney's anxious cock. "You think you can just lie there while I fuck myself? While I get myself off?"

Rodney squirmed under him, shoving his hips up as much as he could tied down and with John on top, turning his hands in the rope so that he could brush John's legs. That little touch was as intense as the feel of the rest of Rodney under him, and John thought about freeing Rodney so they could wrap themselves around each other. But the look on Rodney's face wasn't anger or frustration, so John stuck with the plan.

He let go of Rodney's cock, scooped up another glob of lube, and reached behind himself again. "Do you know what I'm doing now, Rodney?"

Rodney started to nod, but he stopped himself. "No clue," he said hoarsely. "Tell me."

John closed his eyes, trying to envision exactly what he was doing, what he was feeling. "I've got two fingers inside," he said, and it was like saying it made the sensation all that more intense. "I don't think I need to do much, Rodney, because I am so hot for you right now. But this feels good enough that I'll make you wait just a little longer. Not as good as having your fingers in me, though," he said, drifting off a bit as he watched Rodney watching him. Rodney's mouth was open, panting, his tongue flicking out repeatedly to wet his lips.

John pulled his fingers out and found Rodney's cock again. "Do you want me?" he asked.

Rodney whimpered and thrust in his hand. "You know I do, John."

John nodded, ignoring the lump in his throat, and slowly pushed back onto Rodney's dick. They groaned together as John took him all the way in, the feeling as incredible as always. John held still, resting on Rodney, holding him, feeling the barest twitches of Rodney's cock sending jolts straight to his own. He took a deep breath and started stroking his hard-on with his slick hand.

"Do you like this?" he asked quietly. "Do you like me using you like this? I could, you know. Just get myself off, leave you hanging."

Rodney whimpered and pushed up into him. John ground back down. He stroked his cock a few more times–it wasn't going to take much, he was so ready–then leaned forward, setting his hands down above Rodney's shoulders. He rubbed his face across Rodney's chest, loving the tickle of his hair, the light smell of sweat and Rodney.

"Except I couldn't do it, you know that," he told Rodney–and then he started riding Rodney for all he was worth.

"Fuck," Rodney shouted, the muscles in his neck straining, his nails digging into John's ankles. Every motion brought John's dick into blistering contact with Rodney's stomach. The angle wasn't quite right to hit his prostate, but this was all about Rodney. John didn't need any more than that.

Then Rodney gasped and tensed, and John felt him come. He slowed his movements, letting Rodney have whatever he needed. As soon as Rodney started to relax, John sat back up, and with a few hard pulls was coming so hard he thought his balls were never going to recover.

He slumped forward, panting, until Rodney started squirming again.

"Get me out of here, please," he said.

John reached over the edge, fumbling and a bit shaky as he searched for his utility belt. He grabbed his knife–the small one–and cut Rodney loose. Rodney grabbed onto him as soon as he folded the knife, pulling him back down to the bed.

"That was incredible," Rodney whispered, his eyes bright in the dark.

John smiled. "You liked?"

Rodney nodded, then smirked. "But I think future negotiations may require exchanging roles. In the interest of broadening perspectives, you understand."

John snorted and pushed himself closer to Rodney, even though it wasn't really possible to be closer than they were. "Yeah, that's doable," he said.

He wondered if the kids would let them have some of their rope.


	2. Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney gets a little of his own back after the events in Reparations.

The best thing about their heroic defeat of the hive ship (well, besides rescuing Rodney, Ronon, and Earth all in one blow) was the fact that they'd come home with a Wraith cruiser. Okay, it wasn't quite as cool as the Orion, but he and Rodney were still having plenty of fun investigating all the workings of the _alien spaceship_ on their down time. Well, his down time. Rodney was still doing work, of course.

Tonight they were focusing on a room just off the bridge. Rodney thought it was some kind of astral-charting chamber; John was convinced it was a party lounge for the queen. It had these funky half-standing space couches circling the back of the room, and something that looked suspiciously like a bar on the opposite side. (He was avoiding thinking about what might be stocked in a Wraith bar. Zelenka could figure that one out.)

There was even a...thing suspended from the low ceiling right where a disco ball should go. John knew that Rodney's idea of an observation deck made more sense, especially given that the front half of the ceiling was a clear bubble–but he'd also seen the way the Wraith dressed. Grabbing the step stool and a screwdriver, John set out to make a case for his theory. He didn't think he was out of the running yet.

"Don't touch that!"

John looked down, about to bark back that Rodney wasn't playing fair, when something snared his wrists. He yanked against whatever it was and immediately lost his footing. The screwdriver clattered to the ground as he struggled to support himself, feet dangling in mid-air. Fortunately Rodney was right there, supporting hand on John's ass while he shoved the stool back under John's feet.

"Fuck." Panting from the rush of adrenaline, John stared up at his arms. Some kind of organic, gooey, Wraith-rope was wrapped tightly around his wrists. He tugged against it–carefully, this time–but it was a lot stronger than he was.

"I told you not to touch it."

"Yes, Rodney, thank you very much. Maybe you could warn me _before_ I actually set off the trap next time?"

"It's not a trap."

"Excuse me?" John shook his arms pointedly, but Rodney simply let go of his ass and moved away to grab his tablet. "Feeling a little trapped here."

"Well, yes." Rodney tapped his fingers against the screen of his tablet. "It's doing what it's supposed to do. I just meant that it's not a trap for the unsuspecting."

"I knew those Wraith were kinky bastards." John rolled his hands, trying to relieve the itch that was setting in under the worst of the goo. Rodney ignored him, still staring at his tablet as he moved towards the exit. "Hey, where are you going?"

Rodney fiddled with the connections in the slime-covered access panel. The doors slammed shut. John got a sinking feeling as Rodney returned, set the tablet aside, and looked up with a very pleased grin.

"How are your hands? No problems with circulation, anything like that?"

John glared. He was doing okay for the moment–he actually had plenty of slack thanks to the height of the step stool, and working out with Teyla had its benefits–but that didn't mean he was ready to stay there all day. "Rodney," he warned.

"Hmm?"

John tried to wriggle away as Rodney reached for his waist, but he only had so far he could go.

"Hold still."

"Rodney, we are not doing this."

"Oh, I think we are." Rodney got his hand between John's legs, cupping John's balls. The heat of his hand bled through the cloth like it wasn't there, and John couldn't stop himself from spreading his thighs wider. "Payback is definitely in order."

"Payback?" John tried to ignore Rodney's thumb stroking perfectly over his sac. "I let you play with the rope."

"Yes, you did." The heat in Rodney's eyes burned a flush up John's chest. Bringing up that particular memory was a misstep; John was rubbing himself against Rodney's hand before he realized it. "But that's not the same, is it?"

John licked his lips, slowly shaking his head. This was completely different than the carefully-constructed scenario they'd played out in his bedroom. This wasn't safe, this wasn't under his control–and it was just what he had done to Rodney back on the kids' planet.

It was also really, really hot.

He thrust his hips forward, hoping Rodney would get the picture and move his hand farther up. Instead, Rodney stepped back, grinning like he'd just been handed a ZPM. John loved that grin, but he didn't see why Rodney couldn't grin and feel him up at the same time.

"I wish I could kiss you," Rodney said, grin changing to a wistful smile as he stared up at John. John's stomach did a stupid little flop. Then Rodney reached for John's pants.

John closed his eyes. Rodney's knuckles caressed his cock with every button, just enough sensation to bring John to full hardness. Rodney left John's belt buckled and reached inside John's fly. It was the best kind of torture as Rodney fumbled around, trying to draw John's cock through his boxers and pants.

The air was cold when he finally succeeded. John moaned and wriggled his hips, seeking Rodney's heat.

Rodney's hand crept back into John's pants, reaching lower. Ever so gently, he worked John's balls out into the open air. It felt kind of weird; the seam of his pants held them up high, tugging them away from his body. Weird in a good way, though.

"God, that's so hot."

John opened his eyes. He was about to complain at the lack of action when he saw how Rodney was staring at him. Hungry, yes, but also shocked, like he'd done something he hadn't expected.

John looked down at himself. He was fully dressed–T-shirt, uniform pants, belt and holster and gun, everything but his tac vest and P90–and his cock and balls were sticking out for the whole world to see. Every little puff of air made his cock twitch and bounce impatiently, red and wet. He flexed his wrists against the bindings, reminding himself that other parts of his body still existed.

Rodney bent forward. John clutched the ropes, shoving his hips out and up, towards Rodney's mouth–and hot breath gusted over his cock.

"Oh, fuck." The step stool wobbled under his feet, warning him not to move any farther forward. Every muscle tensed, John waited for Rodney's mouth.

And waited. "Oh, come on, Rodney, please."

John could barely see Rodney's eyes under his eyelashes as they flicked up to John's face. The bastard pulled back, grinning.

"You know, I just remembered I was in the middle of a very important program." Rodney kissed the tip of John's cock, and then he walked away. Fucking walked away and picked up his tablet. Picked it up and started doing stuff.

"McKay. If you don't get over here now, things are going to start falling off my body."

Rodney hummed and nodded absently, continuing to tap-tap-tap away at the screen.

"I'm not talking about my dick, Rodney."

Rodney's head shot up, glancing at the ceiling as if he'd just remembered that particular problem. "A few seconds more, I promise."

John's hands were only now starting to get the slightest bit tingly, but Rodney didn't need to know that. "That had better not mean minutes..."

Rodney set his tablet down, marched over to him, and grabbed John's hips in his hands.

"Oh, fuck!" John nearly slipped off of the stool as Rodney took him deep. The heat of Rodney's mouth was overpowering after the coolness of the air, so wet and slick that sweat broke out all over his body in an instant. Rodney sucked as he eased back all the way to the head, kept the suction so tight that it was almost a relief when he pulled off with a pop.

John sagged against the restraints, catching his breath, but relief didn't last long. The air on his wet cock was torture. Goose bumps broke out under the sweat pooled on his back. "Please, Rodney," he begged, desperate to be back in Rodney's mouth. "Please."

"Like this?" Rodney finally, finally, wrapped his hand around the base of John's cock and took the rest in his mouth. John whimpered, unable to stop his hips from making a couple short thrusts. Rodney took it easily, looking up at John with a smile in his eyes as John fucked his mouth over and over.

John lost it. He came, his entire body shaking with the strength of it. He never looked away from Rodney's eyes, even when his ability to focus took a vacation. Rodney sucked him through every throb and shudder, finally closing his eyes as John started to calm down. Releasing John's gaze as he released his cock.

Rodney stepped away. John whimpered a protest even he couldn't interpret. His hands were numb, a muscle in his ass was quivering like a high-strung race horse, and he really, really wanted Rodney.

"This should do it," Rodney said, and that was all the warning John got before the ropes let go and he dropped towards the floor. Rodney wasn't fast enough this time, and John's reactions were shit, so they wound up in an awkward tumble on the floor.

"Okay, not the best plan," Rodney said right before John slung an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. John couldn't get quite coordinated, and Rodney kissed fast, hard and desperate. It was messy and completely wonderful.

Breathing hard, John let his head thunk to the floor. "Give me a minute," he told Rodney as he flopped his hands around. "I won't be much use to you just yet."

"You, ah, you don't really need your hands, you know."

John swallowed hard and then licked his lips in anticipation. He nodded, and Rodney knelt up, fingers already flying over the front of his pants. Rodney straddled John's chest, cock rising hard and ready. John grabbed Rodney's hips, the clumsiness of his fingers forgotten, and practically shoved Rodney's cock into his mouth.

The angle was horrible–John couldn't take nearly as much as he wanted–but Rodney didn't seem to mind. It was fast and rough, both of them grunting and moaning, Rodney cursing and trying to shout John's name. Rodney came with a tiny little whimper that turned into a breathy groan as John swallowed everything.

"Oh, holy fuck." Finally, Rodney pulled out, panting hard. He somehow managed to get himself lying down beside John without bruising either of them with his exhausted clumsiness. "Wow. That was–I mean, wow."

"Oh, yeah," John agreed. He felt used and abused in the very best way, completely blissed out because of Rodney's brilliantly dirty mind. He reached for Rodney's hand, snickering as he realized they were both lying there with their dicks hanging out of their pants. "You have the best ideas."

"I really do." Rodney squeezed his hand, and John swore that the smugness radiating off Rodney was eclipsing the starlight above them. "And to think you didn't want to do it."

John shrugged, then decided he'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable with his balls back where they belonged. He rearranged himself, thinking about how hot Rodney'd made him and what he could do to return the favor.

"Well, you know what they say, McKay." John grinned as the lightbulb blazed on. "Payback is a bitch."


End file.
